


Eleventh Night, or What I Will

by RandomRavenclaw9



Category: Twelfth Night - Shakespeare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boarding School, Disguise, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-09 19:47:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1995621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomRavenclaw9/pseuds/RandomRavenclaw9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyra decides she needs to attend Waverford boarding school, the best high school in the area.  However, she'll have to go undercover to do it, because Waverford is an all-male school.  Modern AU with a Twelfth Night feel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Act 1 Scene 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written a lick of fic before, so please don't judge me! This is my first attempt at anything. Rated T for language and mild sexual content.

My hands shake and the mirror is fuzzy, but the scrape of the scissors is crisp in the shadowy bathroom. The tiled floor seems to sink from the weight of the dark brown locks as they settle onto the cold surface in disjointed heaps. My eyes water, but I clear my throat and continue to free the long strands from my head before reaching for the electric razor. _I_ will _be a Wyvern._

~*~

I step out of the bus onto Waverford’s green, inhaling deeply. I can feel the academic elixir of the campus air thrumming through my veins as I take my first step toward my future. My dorm, Kentwood, looms on my right, appearing much larger than the modest three-story building it is, perhaps because of the small belltower interrupting the plain roof. Its shadow falls lazily on the other dorm, Hawkins. Across from the dorms, the classrooms sprawl around the campus, but I have eyes only for my dorm, and for the first time today, I think I might puke. 

“Dude, you look like you just got flashed or something! Wake up, freshmeat!” A group of guys brush past me and swagger towards Hawkins. Sophomores, maybe? It’s hard to tell by looking at them, but only sophomores are so eager to forget that they themselves were mere freshmen not three months ago. I scowl half-heartedly at their backs and shift my duffel before turning and convincing myself to take one step toward Kentwood, and then one more. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

I feel the fabric hugging my chest start to shift, and panic for a moment before remembering not to reach for it and fix it. _Did I not tie it tight enough?_ I look around with a façade of calm, decide no one has noticed anything, and continue walking with my arms clamped to my sides. Inside Kentwood, I step into a bathroom and lock myself in one of the stalls. My fingers tremble as I pull my shirt off, balancing it across my knees. _Shit._ I’ve lost a safety pin, and the ace bandage has slipped almost completely off of one breast. I unwind it completely and start over, pulling it so tight I have to bite back a gasp. I look down and nod in satisfaction at my nearly completely flat chest, and pin the end with my remaining safety pin before slipping my shirt back over my head. Luckily, the bathroom was empty when I came in, and I haven’t heard the door since I locked myself in the stall, so I’m able to escape without any questioning stares. 

The slip-up has rattled me, and I have to pause in the hallway for a shaky breath _(don’t breathe too deeply, fuck, my chest is splitting)_ and a drink of water at the water fountain. Then a tide of students, no older than freshmen by the looks of them, sweep past me, and I allow myself to be taken by the crowd, drifting along as they rush up the stairs, skipping steps. I slide out of the herd at the second floor and follow the hallway until I reach my room, 214. I turn the handle cautiously and slide inside. All my breath leaves in one gust when I realize the room is empty and impersonal. My roommate isn’t here yet, thank God. I throw my oversize duffel on the bed and immediately start to unpack the important things. My spare ace bandage and safety pins get shoved beneath my shampoo in my shower caddy. My tampons are shoved into a condom box I found in my brother’s trash can (the mental scarring lingers). I shove the box into the corner of my closet and cover it with a pile of winter clothes and warmwear.

I’m unpacking the rest of my clothes when the door bangs open. The doorknob crashes into my shoulder and I’m thrown forward onto the floor, landing on a pile of jeans. I unconsciously groan and reach for my shoulder before reminding myself to act manly, but I can’t bring myself to stand up quite yet.

“Holy shit! Are you okay? Dude, tell me I didn’t just murder my roommate. I mean, I know roommates are sometimes mortal enemies or whatever, but I think a homicide this early on would break all campus records!”

“’M okay”, I mumble, and a hand grabs mine and pulls me up. I find myself looking down at a slender boy who couldn’t be over five feet tall. His light brown hair is in a state of mild disarray, and his gray eyes widen with relief to see me upright and breathing. I run a minute mental check that the ace bandage has held and the sock down my pants hasn’t shifted, then give him a slight smile in return for his blinding one.

“I’m Alex, and I’m your roommate, not your future murderer, in case you’re wondering.” 

I smile a little bigger. This guy’s funny; maybe this year won’t be so hard after all. “I’m Ty,” I say, before plopping on my bed and pulling my sheets out of my duffel.

“Ty. As in Black Tie or Bow Tie or…?” He jokes, one side of his mouth twitching.

I want to brush him off, but I know if I act shy right now, I’ll never be his friend, so I laugh a bit and say, “Oh, definitely Bow Tie… bow ties are cool.” I want to shrink into myself as soon as it leaves my mouth, because who references a _fucking fandom_ when they’re trying to make friends?

But Alex’s eyes widen a bit and he breaks out into a wide smile, revealing a small dimple below his mouth. “Oh my God, you’re a Whovian?” I nod and smile back, though not as broadly, and start to make my bed. “Well, Bow Ty, I think you and I are going to get along swimmingly.”


	2. Act 1 Scene 2

Rain never got the point of Doctor Who, or any of the other fandoms I obsess over. The first time she came over and saw my room, she teased me about my Hufflepuff banner and my bookshelves. I was a little miffed, but I forgave her, because it’s impossible to hold a grudge against Rain. She’s like a hurricane, and whenever you get irked with her, she just sweeps your irritation away with a gust of wind. 

I’d never had a friend like Rain before. My best friends in elementary school wore pigtails and cardigans. Rain wore tights and chucks, and her hair was never definable. When I met her, it was chopped short on one side and dyed teal and raven black. She swept me up in her hurricane and I never looked back. 

I got closer to Rain than anyone else, and I was utterly dazzled by her. She was the Batman to my Robin, and I was thrilled to finally have a friend I could disappear behind. I think Rain felt the same way, glad to have someone to dazzle, to show off for. Whatever her reasons, she made me her BFF For Ev and kept me close. I never really started to question how close we were until the overcast night in seventh grade when we found ourselves making out behind the movie theater. I don’t remember how it started, but God, I never wanted it to stop. We became eager girlfriends and took every opportunity to explore each other’s bodies. We came dangerously close to sex on multiple occasions, and I was blissful. I had never even considered liking boys, with their square edges and angular faces, and how could I when there were creatures like Rain on this earth, all curves and motion and texture?

I had always been insecure about my looks and my body, but dating Rain assuaged my fears slightly. I couldn’t be too tall and thick if I had the privilege to be kissing such an exquisite creature as Rain. When I was in her arms, my height, my plain brown hair and eyes, the extra fluff around my thighs were all forgotten in the beautiful miracle that was this beautiful girl. When she whispered my name into my throat, chanting Tyra like it was a prayer, and explored my chest with her hands, my insecurities fell away, along with my self-control.

The day it all ended was the day her mom found us in her room. I was wearing my jeans, my bra, and Rain. Her mom screamed and grabbed her daughter by the arm, throwing her out of the room and yelling hysterically at me to leave. My parents pretended to be okay with it when Rain’s mom called, but they were never the same around me afterward. They stopped asking about my life and caring about what I was doing. I should be grateful; Rain ended up moving in with her cousin in Philly, and I was stuck in Pittsburgh alone, without even one friend. Who needed friends when you had Rain?

We used to talk on the phone every night, but it soon turned into every week, and every couple weeks, until she stopped returning my calls altogether. The spring of eighth grade, after nearly a month of no communication, she texted me, “my boyfriend doesn’t want me to talk you anymore, he says youre a fag. sorry, bye”. I was distraught for almost two weeks, and couldn’t even really talk to my parents about it. On the eleventh night of my heartbreak, I made myself a list of rules. One: girls suck, and you shouldn’t bother yourself with love. Two: you’re smart, and that’s the important thing. Focus on that so you can be a successful author or journalist one day, instead of a nobody. Three: Get into the best high school around, and work your ass off there. 

The first two rules were easy. The third was decidedly less so. The best school in western Pennsylvania was undisputedly Waverford, an all-boy boarding school. More Waverford Wyverns made it into Ivy Leagues than any other school in the state. After an hour’s deliberating, I made my decision and told my parents I wanted to go to Alice’s, the subpar girl’s school near Waverford. They nodded their heads and told me to do what was best, and put me on a bus to Alice’s five months later without even commenting on my boyish haircut. I didn’t even tell Rain about my choice, and I had no one else to keep my secret. It’s just me, my books, and my ace bandage here. Just the way I want it.


	3. Act 1 Scene 3

“So tell me. What house are you in?” I look up from my pizza at Alex and cock my head to the side in question. “Come on, don’t tell me you’re not a Potterhead. I saw your boxed set. I’m a Slytherin, of course. Cunning and ambitious and awesome. What are you?”

I smile broadly and declare, “Hufflepuff for the win.” I expect Alex’s face to twist in derision. Everyone writes off Puffs as dumb stoners, and no one seems to take us seriously. But Alex nods in appreciation.

“As long as you’re not in Gryffindor. I can’t stand those pretentious losers who think that Gryffindor is just synonymous with ‘good guy’. Drives me nuts.” He looks around quickly, stray pieces of hair floating off wildly at the motion, before leaning in conspiratorially. “So, fancy going to the Freshmen Fever tonight?”

~*~

We leave Kentwood later that night, and I can already hear the music blaring from the road between our dorm and Harrison. The air is crisp and I’m thankful for my jacket as we meander in and out of the street lamps’ glow. Alex has donned a flannel button-up, and I find myself absently admiring the way it falls on his narrow shoulders as we turn the corner into the alley. There’s a DJ stand set up, and a table sporting jugs of lemonade and water. Hordes of freshman guys are clustered by the music, jumping up and down and hooting when the song changes. Alex grabs my arm, lips curling into a smile, and drags me into the fray. I start to panic, shying back like a scared mule, but force myself to follow as I’m pulled into the cacophonous chaos. I linger for two songs, moving just enough to avoid ridicule, before excusing myself to the drink table. 

My fingers have just closed on a cup of lemonade when I feel hot breath on my neck. “Only drink that if you want to be totally buzzed. Mark spiked it before the party, and man is it awesome!” I turn and see a boy with shaggy blond hair and a crooked smile leaning on a taller dark-skinned boy, presumably Mark. I mumble a thanks to the blond and take a water instead. Hot chocolate and reading fanfiction by the fire is my cuppa. Booze and loud music? Not so much. 

I want to go back to the dorm and calm down with some peace and quiet, but Alex appears at my elbow, reaching for a lemonade with a wicked smile. “I heard the lemonade is delicious,” he drawls, raising an eyebrow at Mark before throwing his head back and draining the drink. The blond boy giggles and takes another cup. It occurs to me that Mark and the blond are both undeniably drunk.

“M’name’s Ryan, and your name must be A-Stinkin’-Dorable,” slurs the blond, leaning an elbow on Alex. Ryan’s short, maybe five foot four, but he still manages to dwarf Alex as he slings an arm around the boy’s shoulders. “Mark’s been bitching about the lack of chicks here, but I don’t mind one bit. Straight as a squiggle, my dad calls me.” He leans down to plant a rather wet kiss on Alex’s cheek before Alex pulls away in disgust. “Aw, sweetheart, we were just getting cozy!” Alex doesn’t reply, grabbing my arm and steering me away. 

“Sorry about them. I know Mark from middle school, but I’ve never met Ryan. Well, I mean I guess I have now… want to dance some more?”

I shake my head hastily. My stomach has been churning ever since Alex pushed Ryan off of him. Of all things, my charismatic nerdy roommate has to be _homophobic?_ I start to back away from him. “I feel kind of sick, I think I’ll just lie down in the room until lights-out,” I mumble, turning and walking away through the puddles of light, the obnoxious music following me, burrowing into my ear canals.

I slam the door to our room and flop on the bed despondently. Great. My friends include a bigot, a drunk, and a guy who sees nothing wrong with spiking the drinks. Go me. I will myself not to cry at my luck and manage to remind myself that I still have tons of classes to look forward to on Monday, and that surely there would be nice guys in there to make friends with. The burning in my eyes recedes and I roll over to stare at the ceiling. It’s only been five minutes, but I already feel much better. I’m about to sit up when my stomach drops out at the sound of the doorknob turning. Alex peeks his head in, his light brown hair flopping to the side, before he slides the rest of the way in and closes the door lightly. “Hey Ty… how’s your stomach?”

I roll over to face the wall in answer, huffing a little. Immature, I know, but I’m in no mood for niceties. I hear the floorboards creak, and then Alex’s bed groans. His shoes hit the floor with two smacks, and the bed creaks a little more. I resolutely stare at the wall without moving.

“Look…I’m sorry about the lemonade. Is that what’s got you so upset? I mean, I guessed you were a bit of a prude, no offense, but I didn’t think it was that bad…” He trails off. I want to continue ignoring him, but rage boils up inside me, rage for my parents and Rain and her mom and the strangers who thought it was okay to call us dykes, and for this skinny asshole sitting across from me. I roll over before I can stop myself, and in another moment I’m on my feet.

“It’s not the fucking lemonade!” Alex leans back in shock, but I go on. “I thought you were nice and funny, and that we could be friends, but you had to ruin it by being a fucking homophobe!”

Alex’s mouth has fallen open, but he regains his composure and wrinkles his forehead. “Whoa whoa whoa, who said I’m a homophobe?” Alex curls his lip. “Is this because of Ryan? I can assure you, if anyone tries to kiss me when they’re drunk, I’m not dealing with them, gay or not. Believe me, I’m far from a homophobe. Why, are you hot on guys or something?”

The fight leaves my veins and I slump a little, weary. “No, I…I like girls. I just don’t like bigots.”

“Me either.” His voice has gotten softer, and it washes over my ears in an almost comforting way. It’s smoother, not as harsh and gravelly as a lot of the guys here, especially the older upperclassmen. Alex is a freshman, so he must be close to fifteen like me, and the youth in his voice makes it smooth and soothing. “So that’s settled. Just… warn me next time you’re going to scream my socks off, okay? You’re scary when you’re mad, like Bruce Banner or something. And please tell me you know who Bruce is or I’ll have to shoot you.”

I allow myself a small smile and reach under my bed, pulling out a small stack of Marvel comic books. Alex’s face lights up, and the sight of his pleasure apparent in his gray eyes widens my smile. I shake an odd thought out of my head and plop the stack of comics lovingly on my bed. “Come on over, and we’ll have a lot more fun than those hooligans outside,” I say, pulling a comic into my lap and flipping it open.

“Is that a come-on?” Alex jokes, sliding onto the bed next to me and riffling through the pile. I roll my eyes and start to read. My breasts are killing me after a long day in their fabric prison, and my stomach hurts a bit, probably from the greasy pizza, but I’m the happiest I’ve been all day.


	4. Act 1 Scene 4

My first disaster at Waverford happens when I wake up to a war in my abdomen. I stifle a groan and peek over at Alex’s bed where he’s thankfully still asleep, curled around his pillow and snoring softly. I lift up the covers and confirm my suspicions: a malicious red stain sits on the sheets below me. I roll out of bed, ignoring the pain in my stomach and breasts, and grab a change of clothes, my sheets, my shower stuff, and a tampon from the condom box. I sneak down to the bathroom, insanely grateful that my cramps woke me up before anyone else decided to get out of bed. I figure most of them will sleep in today, because it’s a Saturday and because of the Freshmen Fever last night. 

In the bathroom, I get cleaned up. I panic momentarily over what to do with the tampon wrapper, and I end up burying it in the large trash can beneath a handful of paper towels. Once I’m ready for the day, I head straight to the laundry room on the first floor and cram my sheets in the machine with my pajama shorts and underwear. The display tells me there’s forty minutes left, so I decide to grab my laptop and browse the internet until it’s finished. 

I crack open the door and breathe a sigh of relief at Alex’s slumbering form, and then creep over to my desk. Grabbing my laptop, I start to tiptoe back to the door. After a few steps, something tries to take the laptop out of my hands. I grip it tightly and trip over my ankle, crashing into the floor but keeping the laptop safely aloft. The charging cord, still plugged into the wall, regards me smugly as I let out a stream of curses.

“Whaaa… what are you doing?” Alex’s creamy groggy voice floats over to me and I allow myself one more cuss before rolling to face him. 

“Um, just getting my laptop. Thought I’d do some early morning reading in the lobby. I love the dawn light, and I’ve fallen behind on this one fanfic, so I thought I’d grab a couch down there since they’re so comfortable…” I know I’m rambling, and I cringe. How suave of me. When I’m nervous, I either can’t speak at all or can never shut up like some sort of deranged wind-up toy.

Alex doesn’t seem to notice, stretching and peering at me. “What’re you doing on the floor?” His eyes are still half open, and he rubs them as I explain my tussle with the charging cord. He sits up and looks across the room for the first time. “But what happened to your bed?” The bare mattress holds my crumpled quilt, and the lack of sheets is evident. 

I feel clammy and try not to let my face reveal my anxiety. “Oh, uh, I thought they needed a wash…” I can feel my ears burning and hope fervently that the darkness will hide it.

“After the first night? What could you possibly do to make them dirty on the… Oh. Gross, man, not while I’m in here. I mean, fine, but geez. Wait till I’m gone next time, okay?”

My ears grow even hotter when I realize what he’s implying. I’m not a pervert! I open my mouth, but pause first. What could I say if I deny his accusation? I can’t very well tell him I’m on my period. I slowly close my mouth again and mumble something incoherent before stumbling out the door.

I’m all the way down the stairs before I realize I’ve forgotten my laptop, but I can’t bring myself to turn around.

~*~

Alex leans across the table and snatches a fry off my plate, and I playfully smack his hand. He sticks his tongue out at me and I catch myself staring at the way his nose wrinkles. Giving myself a shake, I take another bite of my hamburger and roll my eyes in pleasure. I’m absolutely starving after our first day of classes. Every class gave me at least a half hour of homework, and the teachers seem tough, if friendly. Alex doesn’t seem as worried as me, which had me baffled until he admitted he doesn’t do homework. (“It’s not that I’m lazy. I don’t believe in the idea of homework, that a teacher decides how I apply my brain and what I do outside of class. Well…maybe I’m a bit lazy too.”)

Alex seemed to have forgotten the issue when I returned with my laundry, and returned to chatting easily with me. We also ran into the sober versions of Mark and Ryan at lunch. Ryan’s a lot nicer when he’s sober, but still extremely flamboyant. Mark’s quieter without the help of spiked lemonade, but I like him and I’m glad he knows Alex. The four of us have decided to sit together in the dining hall, along with some of Mark and Ryan’s friends. 

The four of us walked back to the dorms together. In front of Hawkins, Alex and I split off for Kentwood. The leaves crackle under my feet and the sun streams through the trees to pool in dapples on the ground. I feel like twirling gleefully on the green, laughing at such a perfect day, but something tells me that frolicking isn’t exactly manly. We get to the doors and Alex turns to me, a gleam in his stormy eyes. “Race you!” He takes off through the hall and I laugh, bumbling up the stairs on his heels. I put on a spurt of speed in our hallway and overtake him, bursting into the room a step ahead. I don’t even have time to do a victory dance before Alex barrels into me, pinning me to the floor. I try grabbing his arms as we wrestle but he keeps me pinned down. My fingers brush his armpits and he jerks. I grin wickedly and dig my fingers in as he starts writhing in laughter. Flipping him over, I hold him down and count to three in my best referee voice. “And Ty has done it! He’s won the title! The crowd roars! Whoo!!”

“No fair!” Alex grunts and pushes me off, but can’t hide the smile on his face. I roll off and collapse on the carpet next to him, our chests heaving for air and our hair mixing together where our heads touch. His hand lies next to mine, and I have a minute urge to pick it up and hold it in my own. I close my eyes and shake myself mentally. What is wrong with me? There’s no way I ever want angles, and flat strong chests, and (shudder) dicks. I love girls and everything about them. I must just be having symptoms of withdrawal from being stuck with guys all weekend. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if I started mooning after my literature teacher after such deprivation, and she’s fifty years old, for God’s sake.

Alex looks at me questioningly, and my brain belatedly registers that he has asked me if I want to do anything else tonight. I shake my head and tell him I have tons of homework, and then reluctantly drag myself off the floor towards my desk. Alex sits up a few minutes later and declares he’s going to see what Mark is up to, leaving me to my work.

I look up after my last geometry problem and realize the sun has relinquished its kingdom over to the night. Dusk sits heavy on the horizon, but the majority of the sky already belongs to the stars. I sigh and rub my eyes, trudging over to my bed and collapsing onto it. I decide to read a little bit in bed, and grab my copy of _The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy_ off of my desk, but I am well on my way to sleep before I’m able to get lost in the world of Arthur Dent and the Heart of Gold spaceship.

~*~

_Cold hands slide around my neck, reaching into my hair and twining locks around frigid fingers. I breathe in anticipation, tasting our warm shared breath for a moment before our mouths meet and all conscious thought falls away. Her lips part instantly and I respond, opening my mouth to her. Her tongue slides into my mouth, exploring the ridges in the roof while I groan in pleasure and grip her waist tighter. She works her cold fingers under my scarf and leans me against the wall, pressing her breasts against mine and stirring a fire in my gut. I slide my hands up the back of her shirt, tracing circles on her back that mirror the circles of our tongues._

_My hair prickles at the breeze her hands leave behind as they travel down my sides to my hips, pulling herself closer to me as the kiss deepens. With a sense of urgency, her hands, warm now, slide under the front of my shirt and spread against my stomach. I respond by working my hands down, resting them in the dimples at the base of her spine and teasing the hem of her jeans with my fingers. Her hands travel higher and curve around the edges of my breasts, her thumbs reaching in and rubbing. I moan into her mouth and slide my hands down into her back pockets, pulling her hips closer against mine. She pulls away from the kiss momentarily to lift her dark eyes to mine, sparkling in happiness. Snow settles onto her eyelashes. She breathes my name against my lips. I whisper hers back, drawing out the one syllable into a sort of song. “Raaaiiiinnn…”_

_She smiles against my jaw before moving her lips lower, tracing my neck down to my collarbone. Her hands shift too, leaving my breasts and stroking down my stomach, catching on the waistband of my jeans. She slides one hand down the front of my pants, fervently kissing the hollow of my neck. I groan as her hand travels lower—_

“Dude! Wake up, your alarm has been going off for ages and it’s driving me insane!” Alex seems to decide his words need back-up, and he punctuates his statement by lobbing his wadded up laundry at me. I groan and roll over, switching off my alarm clock and trying to ignore the wetness between my legs. Hauling myself out of bed, I head toward the showers. I haven’t dreamt of Rain in that way for weeks. _I really do need some action or I’m going to go crazy_ , I think to myself. Setting the dream aside, I slide through the bathroom door and prepare myself for another long day of class.


	5. Act 2 Scene 1

I sit in the stall, waiting for the door to bang shut behind the rowdy herd of boys before I dare crack open the door. It’s my last day on my period, and I’ve never been so glad to see it go. Days of smuggling used tampons in toilet paper and burying them in the trash can have worn me down, and I can’t wait to be free from the strain. I slip out of the bathroom stall and silently dash over to the trash can, plunging my hand in to hide the evidence at the bottom of the can. I’ve just dropped it and have started to stand up when the door bangs open and a cluster of upperclassmen swagger in. There’s an almost comical moment when we simply stare at each other, my hand still deep in the trash can, before the guy on the left jerks out of his shock.

“What the fuck are you doing, you fucker?!” He yells, and takes a step back in disgust. I snap out of my trance and dart through the bathroom door, taking off down the hallway. I run past my room but don’t go in; I can hear heavy footsteps behind me, and the last thing I want is for them to know where I sleep. Rounding the corner, I throw myself into the stairwell and start rapidly ascending, taking the stairs three steps at a time. On the third floor, I follow the hallway towards the middle of the building, too scared to notice that my pursuers seems to have given up. 

Halfway down the hall, a unique door catches my eye. It’s narrower than the dorm rooms, and a small sign reads “Do not enter”. I turn the handle and my eyes widen when it turns under my fingers. I push eagerly, but the door must be deadbolted because it doesn’t budge. I’m about to abandon it when I hear the familiar voices of the bathroom clan, presumably headed for their third floor rooms. With a jolt of adrenaline, I shove hard against the door and nearly fall over when it swings hesitantly open. _Not deadbolted, then,_ I think. _Just jammed._ I’m through the door before the upperclassmen round the corner, pushing it safely shut behind me. 

A haze of natural light drifts down from above into the short narrow hallway in front of me, ending abruptly at a steep stairwell. Particles of dust float through the bluish air, animating the silence barraging my ears. I take a step and the floor groans slightly, releasing a puff of dust. The end of an old thick rope hangs in a space next to the stairs, disappearing up unto the stairwell. Taking a deep breath, I take another step and head for the narrow steps. 

There aren’t a lot of steps, maybe ten or fifteen, but there’s a landing every three steps where the stairs turn a corner, forming a tight square. The rope dangles in the center of the square. As I climb, I find my head poking into a tiny room, maybe six feet square, occupied largely by the vast bronze bell suspended in the center. The bell is maybe 3 feet wide, leaving limited room around the perimeter of the alcove, but I scoot around the bell and find I can sit comfortably against the wall with my feet stretching under the bell, next to the hole where the rope falls through. The little space is tall enough to stand in, but barely. The walls are crowned with a foot of grubby windows that disappear into the eaves of the sloping roof above me. I lean my head against the wall, following a lazy dust particle with my eyes, and sigh in contentment at the solitude. I don’t move an inch for a very long time.


	6. Act 2 Scene 2

I am bolt upright in my bed before I even register being awake. My groggy mind belatedly registers the scream and crash from the bed next to mine, and I jump to my feet at the sight of Alex writhing on the ground. “Alex!” I yell, dropping to the ground next to him. His eyes snap open and lock onto mine, and his body stills. He breathes a shaky breath and blinks a few times, trying to hide the tears rimming his eyes. “What on earth happened?”

“J-just a nightmare,” he stammers, pulling himself into a sitting position. “Nothing that bad, just f-fell out of bed I guess.” He turns his pale face his nest of blankets, and then to the clock, whose glowing numbers tell us it’s 3:27, and then takes another shaky breath. “Sorry to wake you… I’ll be going back to sleep now, I guess.” He looks up at the bed at this, but doesn’t move to stand.

I rock back on to my heels, thinking for a moment, before standing up and hauling him to his feet. “You aren’t going back to bed.” He looks at me questioningly, raising one light brown eyebrow in a way that makes my head swim, and I lose my train of thought. A beat of silence passes before I can resume talking. “We aren’t going back to bed. Come with me; I want to show you something awesome.”

~*~

I've been to the belfry more times than I can count in the past week, but it feels different in the middle of the night, even more silent and cozy. The tower is dark, but the dusty windows let in enough light to make out the bell and Alex’s shadowy form. I slide down the wall to sit with my feet stretched out, and Alex doesn’t hesitate, plopping down beside me and circling his knees with his arms. We sit in silence for a minute or two, admiring the quiet dusky bell tower. The bell seems to shine brighter than it does during the day, reflecting the moonlight around the room and onto the side of Alex’s face. It dances across his cheekbone and settles in the hollow beside his nose. He has a nice profile, all slopes and curves like a beginner’s ski course. His nose forms a peak at the tip, and his eyebrows catch the light and hold it away from his eyes. Their gray seems transparent in the dark. Then Alex blinks, a silver tear inching away from the corner of his eye, and I pull my gaze away from him.

I kick my toes back and forth a few times and take a sharp breath before asking, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Alex twitches slightly as the silence is snapped, then leans his head back against the wall. He closes his eyes and starts to talk without changing the neutral expression on his face, almost as though the words are sprouting from his lips. “It’s always the same nightmare. Always. I’m in the living room on the couch, and my dad is pacing and yelling and telling me, ‘It’s just not damned right to be gay! What’s wrong with you?’ I start to cry a bit, and that makes him even madder. He’s yelling all these h-horrible things, and I can’t take it… I run. I leave the house behind, but the words…I can never outrun them.”

I look at Alex for a moment, but he’s still leaning against the wall, motionless. I venture a question, avoiding the worst part of the nightmare. “You… you’re gay? You didn’t say anything when we were fighting about Ryan earlier.”

“Yeah, well, it never came up. But I’m not. Gay, I mean. Not really, anyway. Guys, girls, somewhere in-between, I love non-discriminatorily. Show me an awesome person and I’ll give them an awesome love. Anyway, that's why I'm here at Waverford.. My dad didn't fancy the notion of an abomination living under his roof.” The corner of his mouth curls and he tilts his head to look at me. He’s stopped crying now, and we sit for a minute or two, silently regarding each other.

Then Alex shifts, stretching his legs out next to mine. “Let’s do something to get our mind off of everything,” he says, and I nod. A gleam creeps into his eyes, and he lowers his voice. “How about a game of Truth or Dare?”

~*~

I collapse into a fit of giggles as Alex compliantly humps the bell, jerking awkwardly against the bronze surface. “Eight, nine, TEN!” He hoots in victory and sprawls back down on the ground, dissolving into laughter. The game is working. Half an hour after we started, and we’ve forgotten everything about the nightmare. It’s hard to think about bad memories when you’re dancing the chicken dance or retelling your first kiss. 

“Okay, truth or dare?” Alex sits up and resumes his spot against the wall.

“Dare,” I say without hesitation. I’ve done a few truths, but I’ve been picking mostly dares, because I don’t want Alex to find out about my deception and I’d rather not lie to him, seeing as he’s the best friend I have.

“All right…I dare you to lick that window!” I screw my face up and make gagging noises, but I’m already on my feet, turning toward the dirty window above out heads. The window is level with the top of my head, so I grab the sill and heave myself up. I’m not that strong, but I manage to suspend my body long enough to touch the tip of my tongue to the cloudy surface before I drop back to the floor. I stumble a bit upon landing and end up tripping on Alex’s outstretched legs, flailing wildly before ending up in a heap on the floor next to him. My head knocks into his shoulder and he grabs my arm before I can fall to the ground. 

I raise my head and our eyes meet. He clears his throat and mumbles, “Your eyes are really light…they’re almost gold…” His own eyes, light gray rimmed with a ring of stormy steel, flick across my face. There can’t be more than three inches between our faces. Alex draws a shaky breath. “Ty, I dare you to—to kiss me.”

My eyes widen in shock but I’m already leaning in. I don’t _want_ to kiss a guy. I don’t even like guys! But Alex’s grip on my arm is soft, and his lips look so smooth, and before I know it, our noses are brushing. His lips find mine, gently capturing my mouth and pressing softly against it. My eyelids flutter in bliss and I lean into the kiss. Alex’s fingers twine into my hair as his lips part.

“Wait!” I pull back before I realize what I’m doing, and in another instant I’ve scooted away from Alex. “I’m not, I mean, I don’t like… shit, I just…I didn’t mean to—“

I break off as Alex storms past me, eyes dark as rainclouds. He pounds down the stairs and I hear the door at the bottom quietly open and shut. I sit in stunned silence for a minute, absently fingering my lips where his mouth had been moments before. _What the fuck is wrong with me?!_ I don’t go for guys! I never have! I like soft, rounded girls with their silky skin and angelic voices. What the hell was I doing, kissing Alex? _And enjoying it…_ I can’t push the thought away. There’s no denying it; I was totally caught up in the kiss. It was nothing like that time in fifth grade when Carson Day pinned me by the water fountain and planted a sloppy kiss on me. It was unequivocally enjoyable. I shudder and close my eyes, willing the treacherous thoughts away, and push myself to my feet, swaying a little. I sneak silently back down into our room, but my mind is cacophonous with thoughts of soft lips and luminous gray eyes.


	7. Act 3 Scene 1

My eyes don’t want to open, and I fumble blindly for my blaring alarm. I smack it into silence and blearily rub my face. I feel like shit. I hardly slept at all last night, and my body rebels as I try standing up. I sit on the bed with my head in my hands, willing my brain to shrug off the fog encasing my synapses.

I hear a small cough and pull my head up. My eyes blur before focusing on the form on the other bed. Alex leans forward from where he sits on the bed, resting his elbows on his knees, hands dangling in front of him leisurely. His eyes are red and rimmed with darkness, and his fluffy light brown hair is in a state of wild disarray. His eyes jump slightly back and forth between mine, and he opens his mouth, taking a breath and clearing his throat.

Suddenly, all weariness has left my body, and I’m on my feet rummaging in my closet before I’m aware of moving. Behind me, I hear a soft, “Ty… wait.” I ignore it and grab my shower supplies, and I’m out the door before Alex can say another word. As soon as the door clicks shut behind me, I regret running away, and lean on the wall beside our room. I stand with my eyes closed in guilt for a few minutes, but I hear noises from inside our room and head off down the hall before Alex comes out. I want to turn and apologize, but I can’t fathom what I’d say, so instead I square my shoulders and continue to the bathroom. It’s going to be a long day.

~*~

I pause before entering the dining hall. I’m starving, and they’re serving lasagna for lunch, but the coward in me wants nothing to do with Alex or whatever it was that happened last night. I hesitate in front of the building before turning abruptly and heading the other direction. Across the street from the campus, I see a coffee shop and convince myself that a pastry sounds like an even better lunch than lasagna. 

The coffee shop is small, wedged between two tall brick buildings. The shop is only one story high, with a dull maroon awning and a few tiny round tables occupying the sidewalk in from of it. Scrawling script on the large window announces “Maxine’s, Fast—Fresh—Filling”. I push open the door and am greeted by the jangle of bells. One of the booths inside is filled with a dad and his three children, each babbling simultaneously, and the other booth is occupied by a scruffy old man, typing furiously away at his laptop. I proceed to the counter and decide on a hot chocolate and a giant blueberry muffin. The woman behind the counter tells me to sit down, and they’ll be brought out when it’s ready.

I slide into the chair at a table for two, and a moment later a girl emerges with my muffin. She’s young, certainly too young to be working, but her name badge and apron contradict her appearance. A cascade of mocha hair brushes the small of her back, and her black skirt shows long smooth legs as she strides toward my table. Heat twinges in my stomach, and my eyes swing with her hips as she deftly dodges one of the rowdy children. 

Instead of handing me the muffin and retreating, she drops it on the table in front of me and slides into the seat across from me. “What’s your name, cutie?” she drawls in a southern accent. I can’t decide if it’s real or not. I blush, embarrassing me and causing me to blush more. I’m not used to girls coming on to me, because everyone assumes a person is straight unless otherwise informed. To have a girl (a maddeningly hot one) lean across the table and call me cutie is unheard of for me. I start to mumble my name, but I remember two very important things. First, this girl thinks I’m a guy, and second, she’s flirting with me and expecting it in return.

I clear my voice and raise my eyes to hers. “I’m Ty. You’re…Katrina?” I say, dropping my eyes to the name tag perched below her collar. 

Katrina rolls her eyes. “Please, I ain’t ‘Katrina’ ‘cept when I’m in trouble. And I don’t think you’re the bad kind of trouble. Call me Kay.” She smiles and runs a hand through her long bangs, sliding them away from her face. 

Now’s the time for me to say something witty. _Come on, Ty, think of something…_ “O-kay, Kay,” I say, twitching my eyebrow, and immediately assess whether the table is too small to crawl underneath and hide. Sucking in a breath, I look back up at Kay to see her biting her lip, eyes dancing. We look at each other for another moment before her breath whooshes out, sounding like a seal barking, and starts to double over with laughter. My ears burn, but I start laughing a moment later. Kay catches her breath and rests her hand on my arm. “Listen, cutie. The movie theater is showing the latest Saw movie tonight at seven. Meet me outside?” She winks and scrunches her nose. I feel my face light up and I nod, but she’s already spun out of her chair, headed toward the kitchen. As she swishes toward the counter, she turns her head, hair fanning out around her, and sings, “your cocoa’s ready.” I can’t do anything but stare as she disappears into the back of the café to fetch it.


	8. Act 3 Scene 2

A small cluster of guys stare at me as I bounce back to my dorm. Guys do not bounce, but I don’t care. I can feel the wings on my feet and the sun on my hair as I fly up the stairwell. I have a date! With a hot southern girl! I dance a little as I turn the knob, and throw the door open with gusto.

My good mood dies as fast as the smile on Alex’s face. I’ve frozen, one foot in the room and my hand still on the doorknob. Alex looks like he’s fallen into a coma, the blood draining from his face and the light in his eyes dimming. A few strands of tawny hair float wildly on the gust of wind the door caused, clashing with his statuesque appearance. Suddenly, his reanimates as his lungs fill with air and he lifts his eyes to mine, gray locking on to gold.

“Don’t run away, Ty. We need to talk this out sooner or later.” His words stall the part of my brain that was concocting a flight plan, and after a moment, I nod and plunk down on my bed, facing him.

“Last night was so great… that bell tower and the truth-or-dare… I’ve never had so much fun. And then you fell onto me, and I was looking at you—really _looking_ at you—and I just couldn’t help myself. I know you like girls and I know I shouldn’t have done it. But I don’t regret it.”

He regards me levelly and leans his elbows on his knees. I clear my throat. “I…I had a great time too. I didn’t think it’d be so fun to share my secret place with you. And I’m sorry I was so rude after we… I mean, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. It’s not you. I’m sorry.”

The corner of his mouth hitches up, and his eyes light up a little. “I’m sorry too, Bow Ty. Friends?”

“Friends.”

~*~

It doesn’t take me long to find the theater, but there’s no one standing outside when I show up. After a nervous glance up and down the sidewalk, I lean against the building and watch the autumn breeze dance through the trees dotting the street. The leaves jump in succession as the wind weaves through them, and I wonder if the tree feels the wind as a wave or as a kiss on each leaf. Do trees feel the wind at all? They must. The wind seems like it was created to be felt by the trees.

“Hey, Ty!” Kay’s perky voice cuts through my daydream and I turn to see her flouncing toward me. She’s wearing a flattering red sundress with a cardigan and a pair of cowgirl boots, the sight of which turns my stomach into a pleasant pile of noodles. I wish I had dressed up more; my jeans and button-down seem plain compared to Kay’s outfit.

“Shall we, sugar?” She loops her arm through mine and pulls us into the theater and up to the desk. The guy behind the counter leans across as he sees Kay, a shy smile fluttering across his face. Kay sets her elbows on the counter and smiles up at him. “Hey, Hunter. We’re here to see Saw. Mind fixin’ us up with some snacks and two tickets?” She tilts her head and I find myself staring as her long hair puddles in the small of her back. Hunter’s face turns slightly pink as he nods and turns to the machines.

“Me’n Hunter go way back,” she drawls, smiling at me and threading her arm back through my elbow. God, it feels good. I need to hire a professional arm-linker or something. She sways slightly to an imaginary song as we wait, and a few notes escape in a hum. Hunter hands us a popcorn and our tickets, and I hastily pull out my wallet to dig out a twenty. He rings us up and hands me my change, and Kay leans across to tuck a dollar into his shirt pocket. He flushes again and smiles at her, and she beams at him before reclaiming my elbow and dragging us into the hallway.

Inside our theater, we claim seats in the middle, with no one blocking our view. Kay seems to actually be watching the commercials, but I watch Kay. Her eyes are a dark brown, iris indistinguishable from pupil in the near-black theater. She has a longish face with a broad mouth and big eyes, and looks pretty much exactly like you’d expect a hot country girl to look. Her face is always in motion though, and seems to react to every frame of the commercials. You would never be able to paint her face, because it’s always changing, lips falling apart and merging back together, cheeks rising and falling and eyes dancing in their sockets.

Suddenly her eyes jump from the screen to mine, and I blush to be caught looking but don’t turn away. She winks before looking back at the screen, and I swear I could hear my brains turning into clouds.

The movie is predictable, all blood and screaming and ominous music. I’m not a huge fan of scary movies like this. But when the chainsaw starts roaring and Kay hugs my arm fiercely, I’d give anything for it to last forever. All the fake blood and poor cinematography is worth it to have her face buried in my shoulder and her arms wrapped around mine.

We emerge from the movie to find that night has settled around us while we’ve been inside, disorienting me for a second. Movie theaters seem like a kind of time capsule, because no matter what, they always manage to throw you off. If you walk outside afterwards and it’s still light out, it confounds you because you feel as though you’ve lived a lifetime in the movie, so how is it still daytime? My train of thought derails as Kay casually threads her fingers through mine, sending tingles up to my shoulder. I can’t help but smile as I squeeze her had lightly, tracing the back of it with my thumb. 

I’m not paying attention at all to where we’re going, but Kay must’ve been, because we end up outside the café a few short minutes later. She spins to face me and grins. “I had a fabulous time tonight.”

I grin back. “We should do this again sometime.”

My heart stops as she slides her hand into my pants pocket, my vision clearing only when I realize she’s pulled my phone out and is punching numbers into it. I shake my head to clear the embarrassing fuzziness away and tune in to what she’s saying. “…in the café tomorrow and the next day, but I’m free after that. Text me, hey, Ty?” I nod and smile at her as she swirls away and glides through a door next to the café, presumably to the apartment above it.

I don’t even remember walking home. My mind is full of long brown hair and luminous gray eyes. _No! Dark brown ones!_ I push the offending stormy eyes out of my mind and remember Kay in that dress, Kay winking, and dancing to her silent music.


	9. Act 3 Scene 3

The last rays of the dying sun grab longingly at the crowns of the trees as they’re dragged below the golden horizon. The park has fallen into a land of half-light, transformed into a fairytale by the pink and ochre sky. My palm is buzzing as Kat’s rests easily inside it, and our steps are matched as we wander through the park. The week since our first date had flown by, and I’ve managed to see Kat every day since. I’ve been eating pastries for lunch and drinking in Kat for dessert.

We round a corner to see a figure walking toward us. It’s hard to tell in the half-light, but as he draws nearer, I can make out his Wyvern varsity jacket. He walks a bit closer and I find myself looking at a face I’ve seen before, in the halls of my middle school. His face dawns in recognition and he opens his mouth.

“Tyr—”

“Tyler!” I interrupt before he can say my real name. “I mean, I’m Ty. Nice to meet you. So you’re a Wyvern too?’

“He looks at me strangely and says, “Ty..? I—we went to middle school together. I’m Grant. Don’t you recognize me?”

“Ohhh, yeah man. I forgot half the faces in my old school, sorry dude!” I feel bad as I play it off, but Grant almost revealed my secret in from of Kat, and I’d do anything to avoid that.

“You, um, changed a lot.” He shuffles his feet. “Not that I care or anything. I mean, congratulations. I mean…” He trails off and fails to avoid staring at my flat chest and buzzed hair. “Well, I’ve got to go. See you around, man?” He claps me awkwardly on the shoulder and brushes past.

I let out a sigh and take a step, but my hand is tugged back. I turn to see Kat staring levelly at me. “What the hell was that about? What did he mean, you’ve ‘changed’?” She lets go of my hand and crosses her arms.

My mouth dries up, and I can’t help but look frantically around the park. Off to our left, the footpath leads under the road through a little tunnel, covered in graffiti and lit with buzzing yellow lights. I point to it and say, “Can we talk there? It’s a little more private.”

She nods, a crease settling between her eyebrows, and we walk over there, a terse silence resonating in the space between us. We walk into the middle of the tunnel and I slide down the wall to lean uncomfortably against some art of a heron. Kat squats in front of me and watches me.

My mind has been whirling since Grant opened his mouth, and now I take one more second before letting out a shaky breath and molding my face into a calm mask. “I used to be really really shy in middle school. They’d laugh at me and call me ‘Tyrannosaur’ because my social skills were extinct.” That much is true. I take a breath and continue. “Grant was probably shocked I was on a date with someone as pretty as you. I couldn’t even talk to girls when he knew me. I really have changed since then.”

Kat rocks back on her heels as the crease between her eyebrows softens. “Oh, hun,” she drawls softly, “I’m sorry I got mad. I didn’t know I was your first girlfriend.” I think about correcting her, but telling her about Rain would definitely contradict my story of being unable to talk to girls. She doesn’t seem to notice my indecision as she stand up, taking my wrists and gently lifting me to my feet. “Is that why it’s been a week and we haven’t kissed yet?”

My back is flush with the painted wall, and Kat rests her arms around my neck like we’re dancing. I bring my hands up to rest on her hips as she leans in and brushes her lips tantalizingly across mine. I try to deepen the kiss, but she’s already resting her head on my neck, swaying us gently. I can feel her smiling against my throat. I let out a small sigh and smile too, rocking to the tune of a silent song.

Suddenly, soft footsteps echo in the tunnel. Kat doesn’t move, but I turn my head toward the noise. My stomach twists and crashes sickeningly as I see Alex walk into the tunnel on the arm of a guy I recognize from class. They’re looking at each other and murmuring, and Alex lets out a small laugh. I feel all the air whoosh from my body. Alex turns his head and our eyes lock. For a moment, the world is frozen. I can’t tear my eyes away, and he’s stopped in his tracks, tugging his date to an awkward halt. I can’t even seem to draw a breath.

Then Alex spins abruptly on his heel and darts back out of the tunnel, date in tow. Kat lifts her eyes to my face, but I’m frozen in place, staring after Alex. I can hear Kat speaking, but her words wash over me in incomprehensible waves as I numbly turn and stumble out of the tunnel away from Alex, away from Kat, and into the dusky shadows.


End file.
